of passion in a more sustained and amusing manner, and God knows what a terrible idleness is that which proceeds from an empty heart! It would be impossible to form any idea of this woman's resources. She commenced by drawing them from her intellect, and then from her heart, for she loves me to adoration. With what art does she profit by the smallest spark, and how well she knows how to convert it into a conflagration! how skilfully she directs the faintest movements of the soul! how well can she turn languor into tender dreaming! and by how many indirect paths can she guide the mind that is wandering from her back to herself again! It is wonderful! And I admire her as one of the loftiest geniuses that can exist.
“I came to see her very cross, in a very bad temper, and seeking a quarrel. I know not how the sorceress managed it, but at the end of a few minutes she had obliged me to pay her compliments, although I had not the least wish to do so, and to kiss her hands and laugh with all my heart, although I was terribly angry. Is such tyranny conceivable? Nevertheless, skilful as she is, the tete-a-tete cannot last much longer; and, during the past fortnight, I pretty often chanced to do what I had never done before, to open the books that are on the table, and read a few lines in the intervals of conversation. Rosette noticed it, and was struck with dismay, which she was scarcely able to conceal, and she sent away all the books out of the room. I confess that I regret them, although I cannot ask for them again.
“The other day-frightful symptom! — some one called while we were together, and instead of being furious, as I used to be at the beginning, I experienced a kind of joy. I was almost amiable; I kept up the conversation which Rosette was trying to let drop so that the gentleman might take his leave, and, when he was gone, I volunteered the remark that he was not without wit, and that his society was agreeable. Rosette reminded me that two months before I had thought him stupid, and the silliest nuisance on earth, to which I had nothing to reply, for I had indeed said so. I was nevertheless right, in spite of my recent contradiction: for the first time he disturbed a charming tete-a-tete, and the second time he came to the assistance of a conversation that was exhausted and languishing (on one side at least), and for that day spared me a scene of tenderness somewhat fatiguing to go through.
“Such is our position. It is a grave one-especially when one of the two is still enamored, and clings desperately to what remains of the other's love. I am in great perplexity. Although I am not in love with Rosette, I have a very great affection for her, and I should not like to do anything that would cause her pain. I wish to believe, as long as possible, that I love her.
In gratitude for all those hours to which she has given wings, in gratitude for the love which, for my pleasure, she has bestowed on me, I wish it. I shall deceive her, but is not an agreeable deception better than a distressing truth? for I shall never have the heart to tell her that I do not love her. The vain shadow of love on which she feasts appears so adorable to her, she embraces the pale spectre with such intoxication and effusion that I dare not cause it to vanish; yet I am afraid that in the end she will perceive that, after all, it is but a phantom. This morning we had a conversation, which I am going to relate in dramatic form for the sake of greater fidelity, and which: makes me fear that we cannot prolong our union very long,
“The scene represents Rosette's room. A ray of sun is shining through the curtains; it is ten o'clock. Rosette has one arm beneath my neck, and does not move for fear of waking me. From time to time she raises herself a little on her elbow, and, holding her breath, bends her face over mine. I see all this through the grating of my eyelashes, for I have been awake for an hour past Rosette's chemise has a neck-trimming of Mechlin lace which is all torn, and her hair is escaping in confusion from her little cap. She is as pretty as a woman can be when you do not love her, although she is by your side.
“Rosette (seeing that am I no longer asleep)-'O the naughty sleeper!'
“Myself (yawning)-'A-a-ah!'
“Rosette-'Do not yawn like that, or I will not kiss you for a week.'
“Myself-'Oh!'
“Rosette-'It seems, sir, that you do not think it very important that I should kiss you?'
“Myself-'Yes, I do!'
“Rosette-'How carelessly you say that! Very well; you may expect that for the next week I shall not touch you with the tip of my lips. To-day is Tuesday-so till next Tuesday!'
“Myself-'Pshaw!'
“Rosette-'How, pshaw!'
“Myself-'Yes, pshaw. You will kiss me before this evening, or I die!'
“Rosette-'You will die! What a coxcomb! I have spoiled you, sir.
“Myself-'I will live. I am not a coxcomb, and you have not spoiled me-quite the contrary. First of all, I request the suppression of the Sir; you are well enough acquainted with me to call me by my name, and to say thou to me!'
“Rosette-'I have spoiled thee, D'Albert!'
“Myself-'Good. Now bring your lips near!'
“Rosette-'No, next Tuesday!'
“Myself-'Nonsense. Are we not to pet each other for the future except with a calendar in our hands? We are both a little too young for that. Now, your lips, my infanta, or I shall get a crick in my neck!'
“Rosette-'No!'
“Myself-'Ah! you wish to be ravished, my pet; by heavens! you shall be. The thing is feasible, though perhaps it has not been done yet!'
“Rosette-'Impertinent man!'
“Myself-'Observe, most fair one, that I have paid you the compliment of a perhaps; it is very polite on my part. But we are wandering from the subject. Bend your head. Come: what is this, my favorite sultana? and what a cross face. We wish to kiss a smile and not a pout.'
“Rosette (stooping down to kiss me)-'How would you have me laugh? You say such harsh things to me!”
“Myself-'My intention is to say very tender ones.- Why do you think that I say harsh things to you?'
“Rosette-'I don't know-but you do.'
“Myself-'You take jokes of no consequence for harshness.'
“Rosette-'Of no consequence! You call that of no consequence? Everything is of consequence in love. Listen, I would rather have you beat me than laugh as you are doing.'
“Myself-'You would like to see me weep, then?'
“Rosette-'You always go from one extreme to the other. You are not asked to weep, but to speak reasonably, and to give up this quizzing manner, which suits you very badly!'
“MYSELF-' It is impossible for me to speak reasonably and not to quiz; so I am going to beat you, since it is to your liking.'
“Rosette-'Do.'
“Myself (giving her a few little slaps on her shoulders) — 'I would rather cut off my own head than spoil your adorable little body, and marble the whiteness of this charming back with blue. My goddess, whatever pleasure a woman may have in being beaten, you shall certainly not have it.'
“Rosette-'You love me no longer.'
“Myself-'That does not follow very directly from what precedes; it is about as logical as to say: It is raining, so do not give me my umbrella; or: It is cold, open the window.'
“Rosette-'You do not love me, you have never loved me!'
“Myself-'Ah! the matter is becoming complicated: you love me no longer, and you have never loved me. This is tolerably contradictory: how can I leave off doing a thing which I have never begun? You see, little queen, that you do not know what you are saying, and that you are perfectly absurd.
“Rosette-'I wished so much to be loved by you that I assisted in deluding myself. People easily believe what they desire; but now I can quite see that I am deceived. You were deceived yourself; you took a liking for love, and desire for passion. The thing happens every day. I bear you no ill-will for it; it did not depend upon yourself to be in love; I must lay the blame on my own lack of charms. I should have been more beautiful, more playful, more coquettish; I should have tried to mount up to you, O my poet! instead of wishing you to come down to me: I was afraid of losing you in the clouds, and I dreaded lest your head should steal away your heart from me. I imprisoned you in my love, and I believed when giving up myself wholly to you that you would keep something…”
“Myself-'Rosette, move back a little; you are like a hot coal!'
